MUSEUM by BOB ARNOLD ~

Museum

Bob Arnold

Longhouse 2016

“It was the hour, and nothing stopped the wild things from roaming.” 

(from Museum by Bob Arnold)

Museum, An Unlikely Meditation, written by the poet Bob Arnold, is as much an unlikely novel. These are prose poems inspired by a summer long visit to a museum and its grounds when the author “was very curious to know who lived there” and then beyond . . . ever wonder when a museum closes for the evening, when the security guards leave, when the alarm system is set for finer detail, and these great miracles within the venerable exhibition halls can now breath, become alive, perhaps trade places on the walls, and perhaps the museum roof is raised off its foundation, the walls open wide, and are now flattened to the ground —

These tales read as a novel or as short prose poems where no dust has settled, when the stories move from the past to the present and then to re-fresh the past with poignancy, as the tales tremble and await your visit. Interdependent, they are borne out of a stability, purity and activism from Bob Arnold who knows as they truly are. A meeting with the remarkable, they quiver and shake as the many characters are met with a disturbance of excitement, protected by Bob's sincere narrative as if the Jataka tales and Borges have met the genuine practical fantasy of Bradbury — all to converge within a reading of Museum.

The book begins with “Endless Summer”, moves to “Brats”, “A Coin Toss”, “Good Fences and Neighbors”, “Have A Seat”, “Far from the Great Plains”, “Amazing Friends”, “Drive On, Driver”, “The Golden Touch” and “The Bell” — to name a few.

______________________________________


"Not since Winesburg Ohio 
has there been such a book."

— George Willard

______________________

236 pages, prose — including a collage of levitating illustrations and photographs, joyously and with wit chosen by the author

Longhouse, December 2016 — $30 (Paypal or check)

Available with free US shipping directly from Longhouse.

This book may be further found on ABE, Alibris, Bibliofind 

& Amazon

Please inquire 

______________________________________

PEACHES EN REGALIA ~

I CHING ~

I  N  T  E  R  V  I  E  W

D A V I D     H I N T O N

Farrar Straus Giroux

2015

LUCKY ~

Leaving For Work

I could hold you

All morning like this —

Loose summer dress

In my hands, brush of

Sunburn on your shoulders,

The feel of your waist,

And a game of tip-toeing

Who is taller, as we kiss

And won’t let go

That's Her

doing farm chores, lugging

water she hikes through a field

of wet grasses in high boots

old pants & cap, a red tee

shirt she slept in & much

earlier in bed I raised this

                                                                & kissed her kissed her

Wait

All evening

A swallow has

Swept the grassy

Farmyard for one

Shed goose

Feather to stitch

Into her nest —

It is easy enough

For me to pick

Up — but I watch

Instead, until

She has it

Lucky

She is right, this woman

I love, it has been a windy

Fall. And her blonde hair slips

Apart in long strands and with

One hand she combs it away from

Her face and she is smiling. For

Lunch she eats an apple and suns

Her legs, a summer skirt raised.

She is a mother. A small boy is

Napping upstairs in the house.

When awake he will chase

Leaves that fall down from the

Sky, that’s how he sees it.

He calls me daddy because I am.

When I was off at work this

Morning up river laying stone

Along the road in the village

A blonde woman and her young son

Visited me. Hands cold gripping

Wet stone, boots chalked. This

Woman carried her little boy

In her arms, his green sweater

Was like the one my son wears

His mother knitted, ah the love

Of mothers! and I gathered stone

By hand and thought of blue sky

Above, day clear as the river,

And why you must love what you do.

_____________________________

                       Bob Arnold

ONCE IN VERMONT

Gnomon

photo ~ "Early Spring"
by bob arnold

RAY LAMONTAGNE ~

ESSENTIAL ~

the bluebird




there's a bluebird in my heart that

wants to get out

but I'm too tough for him,

I say, stay in there, I'm not going

to let anybody see

you.



there's a bluebird in my heart that

wants to get out

but I pour whiskey on him and inhale

cigarette smoke

and the whores and the bartenders

and the grocery clerks

never know that

he's

in there.



there's a bluebird in my heart that

wants to get out

but I'm too tough for him,

I say,

stay down, do you want to mess

me up?

you want to screw up the

works?

you want to blow my book sales in

Europe?



there's a bluebird in my heart that

wants to get out

but I'm too clever, I only let him out

at night sometimes

when everybody's asleep.

I say, I know that you're there,

so don't be

sad.



then I put him back,

but he's singing a little

in there, I haven't quite let him

die

and we sleep together like

that

with our

secret pact

and it's nice enough to

make a man

weep, but I don't

weep, do

you?





——————————————————————————————————

C H A R L E S      B U K O W S K I
E S S E N T I A L      B U K O W S K I
Selected and edited by Abel Debritto
Ecco /Harper Collins UK 2016